


Sunday Mornings

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukio cooks dinner. He packs school lunches. He has to, because god knows what kind of sickness would strike their son if he let Ryouta in the kitchen. It's a chore, and sometimes a tiresome one, but he still finds joy in cooking for them on Sunday mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Mornings

Yukio had gotten so used to the details that he often forgot they weren’t monotonous.

When they were first looking at the house, he had been more than put off by the pastels of the kitchen. The mint tiles on the walls and the pink of the refrigerator made him feel like he had been transported back into the realm of a 1950’s housewife, and the look of the appliances did little to quell his concerns. His partner had loved it, not that he possessed many cooking skills, but Yukio was powerless when it came to him.

It was only a kitchen, after all, so they bought the house.

Days, weeks, months, _years_ passed, and the kitchen had yet to change. Not that Yukio particularly minded. Somehow, someway, he had even grown to _like_ it. 

Pleasant memories tended make kitchens less ugly in their own way, he supposed.

“Papa, what are you making?”

Yukio grinned as he felt a hand tug at his T-shirt. He smiled down at the dark-haired boy who was straining to look over the countertop, clothed in basketball-patterned fleece pajamas that Ryouta swore the boy picked out by himself—no outside influences in sight. He placed a free hand on his son’s head, ruffling his hair as he shuffled a skillet on the stove. 

“What we usually eat on Sundays. Remember?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Omelets.”

The boy stuck out his tongue. “I don’t like eggs.” 

“Oh? But you still eat them, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Otherwise I’d _staaaarve_.”

Yukio raised an eyebrow as he looked at his son. “What does that mean? Do you not like my cooking?”

The boy’s face dropped, eyes growing wide. “I didn’t say that!”

“Mm, I don’t know, sure sounded like it…”

He tugged insistently on his father’s shirt. “Papa, I didn’t!”

Yukio bit back his smile for a moment, then grinned as he scooped his son up in his arms. The boy squealed, wriggling in his grasp.

“I know, I know. Just messing with ya, kiddo.” He planted a kiss on the side of his head, and the boy squirmed.

“Papa…” His voice wavered, half with laughter, half with annoyance.

Yukio pulled away, giving the boy a stern look. “What? Are you gonna tell me you’re too old for cuddles now, too? Geez…”

“Hey!” The boy pouted, burying his face into his father’s shoulder. “That’s not true…” came out, muffled into his shirt

Yukio smiled. “Good.” He nuzzled the boy and pecked him with kisses, urging a stream of giggles from him.

“You two are just too cute, you know that?”

Both paused, looking up. Ryouta stood at the edge of the kitchen, clothed in the plain white T-shirt and boxers he wore to bed the night before. Combing the bedhead out of his hair with his fingers, he shook his head at the pair with a smile.

“Daddy!”

The boy scrambled out of Yukio’s arms and ran to the other man, wrapping his arms around him. Ryouta picked him up, kissing his cheek.

“Good morning to you, too, honey! You don’t have to run to greet me next time though, okay?”

The boy nodded. “Kay.”

The blond smiled. “Good. Hey, we’re about to eat breakfast, right?

“Uh-huh.”

“Want to go find what channel you want to watch while we eat, and then you can help me set the table while Papa finishes cooking?”

“Kay!”

“Awesome! I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy!”

Ryouta set the boy down and watched him as he sped off into the other room. He shook his head as he turned back to his partner.

“Well, I suppose he’ll learn someday, right?”

Yukio let out a small laugh. “For the sake of our floors, I sure hope so.” He glanced down at his partner’s boxers. “Summoned enough energy to get out of bed, but not enough to put on pants, huh?”

The blond shrugged. “It’s a Sunday. I’m surprised you still hold me to such high standards.”

Yukio rolled his eyes before turning back to the stove, stiffening a second as he felt his partner’s arms encircle his waist. Ryouta placed a soft kiss on the back of his neck, and he smiled, relaxing into his arms.

“How you’d sleep?”

“Mm, well. You?”

Yukio stifled a yawn. “Woke up early, as usual.”

“Babe, it’s called the weekend for a reason. You’re supposed to relax.”

“I know, I know. I stayed in bed till I heard the kid moving around, so I didn’t get up too early.”

“Well, I guess that’s not too bad. But still, you could’ve woken me up. I would’ve kept you company.”

The dark-haired man laughed. “Yeah, because waking up a Sleeping Beauty like yourself is so easy.”

“Well, Sleeping Beauty _is_ supposed to be woken up by true love’s first kiss, so actually, yeah, it should be.”

Yukio smiled and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” His partner rested his chin on his shoulder, pecking him on the cheek. 

“You could still kiss me now, though.” 

Ryouta moved closer to him, smiling expectantly. Yukio tipped his head up, raising a hand to touch his cheek. His skin was as soft as ever, carefully maintained with the slightly obsessive beauty routine that came with being a professional model. Slowly, he placed his lips to his partner’s, kissing him softly, moving his lips just enough to feel Ryouta grasp his waist the smallest bit tighter. His fingers crept up into his hair, twisting a lock of blond for a moment before dropping away with a smile.

“…Good?”

Ryouta sighed, slumping into his arms in a happy daze. “Your kisses always are…”

Yukio scratched the back of his head, glancing away awkwardly for a second. 

“Yeah, yeah, no need for theatrics.” 

The blond perked up. “I will compliment your kisses as much as I damn well please, Yukio! That’s the price you paid when you decided to live the rest of your life with me.”

The man’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t remember agreeing to that.” He paused, a smile tugging at his lips. “But I can’t say I can complain.” He turned back to the stove to switch the coil off. 

“Food’s pretty much done, so you can get the table ready.”

“Will do.” The blond grabbed a stack of plates from the cabinet. “I’ll make sure our boy helps, too.”

Yukio smiled. “Good. ‘Bout time he started taking up some responsibilities.” He busied himself with the skillet for a moment, wasting just enough time to pinch his partner’s butt just before he left his reach.

Ryouta let out a laugh. “Yukio!”

“That’s what you get for not being modest enough for my kitchen, Ryouta,” teased the man as he briefly watched his partner walk down the hallway. He glanced around the kitchen, smiling at the mint green walls, at the stove coils that clicked and crackled as they cooled down.

Life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So I totally had no idea what to name their kid, and I still don't, so that's a thing. That aside, thanks for reading!


End file.
